We question their motives for moving a pile of rocks from one place to another.

We, ourselves, find a place to dig, scrape, or carve out,

and then we abandon it,

leaving only the detritus of our efforts, scars on this sere land.

The set of stones and trees bonded to the earth give us no answers.

These paintings are about an impermanent sense of place, rather than a fixed portrait. They are about remembering the limitless expanses interrupted by small episodes of grace and recognition.

What gives me energy is knowing how fragile the world is, and how fictional is my sense of control. A brief and fragile impression of stability gives the fleeting idea of security. The line is really negligible.